


Just Keep Holding On

by Skyforged (Travelilah)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Chronic Pain, Dark, Depression, Drug Abuse, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), Medical Experimentation, Mutation, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-11-23 17:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18155087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Travelilah/pseuds/Skyforged
Summary: "Just keep holding on, Darce.""Hold on, yeah? We'll figure this out for you.""Hang in there, Darcy. We're trying.""I need you to stay strong, doll. Please for me."Darcy was sick to death of holding on.She tried. She really did.But it hurt so much and she didn't want to wait anymore. She just wanted it to be over.She wanted to be HER again. That's all.To be something other than a walking-talking mess of molecules that were stuck together by some evil secondhand-Hydra-Science.





	1. Just

Darcy had been out doing the usual morning coffee run for the Scientists-Three when shit hit the fan. She was reciting the orders aloud to herself so she didn’t forget how many sugars Tony wanted in his Venti Iced Soy Quad-shot extra-hot no-whip Hazelnut Macchiato. So focussed, she didn’t notice the men in black ski-masks creeping up behind her or realise that she was being kidnapped until they thrust a sack over her head and they tossed into the back of the van.

She didn’t bother screaming or crying out for help. She knew there was no point. No-one would risk their neck to save a girl like her: a nobody whose only skills were making coffee and organising paperwork. Not in this town. New York, after all, didn’t care anyone who wasn’t a celebrity. ‘Sides this wasn’t her first rodeo. She knew the drill. Stay quiet and conserve energy for when things took a turn for the worse.

She wondered which band of idiots was responsible this time. She hoped it wasn’t the vegan activists again. She didn’t think she could survive another stint of listening to self-righteous lectures on repeat or eating food that tasted like cardboard.  

Darcy screwed up her nose at the thought, which made the burlap sack rub against her face even more. God, it was already making her want to scratch her eyes out. Coupled with the stench of gunpowder and sweat, her nose was stinging as well. She took in another deep breath, trying to calm herself down and regretted it. She smelt blood. The bad guys must have busted her schnoz when they picked her up.

She sighed, but other than that, she remained quiet. Only listening to the gentle thrum of the Villain Wagon as they travelled to the secret base, which she bet was some kind of abandoned warehouse or a dodgy old bunker from the Cold War era. Or one of the kidnappers Mom’s basements. Again, she’s been around and done the whole kidnapping thing before.

She knew that the key in this situation was to remain calm and to wait for help to come. So Darcy told herself that she wasn’t scared, and she believed it.

For the first few days.

 

* * *

 

_“Yes, what a lovely girl you are,” crooned a voice into her ear. She didn’t shiver or even flinch when fingers followed, stroking her hair and trail down her spine, stopping just above her hip._

_Sharp nails dug in and she couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that pushed past her lips._

_“Ah, yes, you still have some spirit in you.”_

_She wanted to cry. But she didn’t have any tears left, mainly because she hadn’t been given any water, but after everything they’ve done to her, it didn’t seem like a few drops of salt water were going to make anything better._

_“That’s right my dear, just keep holding on and you will be rewarded,” are the last words she heard before there was a sharp prick at the side of her neck._

_At first, she only felt a sting, from what she assumed to be a needle. But then came an aching cold in her bones. Her muscles ached, her body shivered and her skin tingled._

_Then, there was ice. Ice in her veins. Or maybe it was fire because it burnt and it hurt. Christ, it hurt so much. Stars burst behind her eyes and she tasted blood. She’d bitten her tongue._

_The tears finally come and she screamed or at least she tried to. But she made no sound, her voice long gone. She only managed a few feeble raspy breaths and broken hisses of pain._

_She writhed in agony; she tossed and turned; she begged for mercy, but nothing dulled the biting agony that left her will to live hollow. She prayed for it to end. But she knew nobody would answer her pleas._

_Mercy came when her body failed her. It couldn’t handle any more pain. Her world faded out, her vision of white became blurry and spotty until darkness took her._

 

* * *

 

When she stirred she panicked. She couldn't move her arms or her legs. All she could see was white. Endless white, the colour of fresh snow, but it was also the sterile white of a medical room. She heard the rattling and clanking of metal. Chains. She twisted her head and writhed in an effort to get free, but nothing would budge.

Her panic doubled. She was in a cell and tied down to the bed like some wild animal. They’d done things to her, and she didn’t know what. She couldn’t even feel her limbs or look down to see if they were all there.

Her heart galloped as her panic climbed. She calmed slightly when she noticed that she was cold. Cold all over, and from the slight rustling, she heard that was due to the fact she was in nothing more than a flimsy hospital gown.  

“What’s happening? Where am I?” she cried, breathing frantically. Her mind racing as she tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

Slowly, but surely her senses came back to her and from the softness beneath her, she could ascertain that she was on a mattress of some sort. She could also see that the room wasn’t just endless white, but rather padded walls of cream, grey and silver. It smelt of antiseptic and clean. Too clean. Her nostrils burnt from the smell.

“Let me go,” she croaked out feebly, and her words sounded pathetic even to her ears, as they just bounced off the walls and fell back onto her own ears.

She focused on trying to calm herself down. She went back through her last memories: the cold, the darkness. Pain. She curled her fingers, in and out, nails digging into her palm, and it gave her clarity. Pain gave her reality.  

Reality said that there was fuck all chance of escape. She doesn’t know how much longer she was going to last. Information wasn’t what they wanted from her. She didn’t know what they wanted. To hurt her, or maybe to use her. Whatever it was they were doing, it was breaking her.

She has been waiting on a rescue. For one of the Avengers to swoop in and save her; to whisk her away from this hell, and take her back to the gilded Tower. It wasn’t how the story would end this time. There’d been no sign of a prince. She’d not heard the noble quinjet steed’s roaring engines. It was just her alone with her pain and doubts.

She’d wait for a sign. She hoped there was a sign. Because she was starting to lose hope that they would ever come for her.

She woke to the sound of the door her cell been unlocked and she froze. Staying as still as possible. Trying not to flinch at the keys as they jingled and jangled, or at the heavy-booted footsteps approaching her. She could even hear the person breathing, quiet and calm.

As they got closer, her heartbeat soared, and she curled her fingers. Bracing herself for whatever was to come.

The footfall stopped near her head. There was more jingling and she turned her head, trying to get a look at the person and what they were doing. She didn’t even manage a glimpse before a hand stuck her face. Her head whipped to the side on impact. Her cheek stung and she let out a small cry that was nothing more than a scratchy wheeze.

She saw the shadow of the hand approaching again and she flinched. Instead of another hit, they grabbed her jaw with hard, cold fingers. “Don’t get any ideas.” Spit landed on her face as they spoke. “I’m undoing your cuffs. You only move when I say. Got it?”

She nodded the best she could and tried to suppress her tremors. The voice promised pain, and not wanting to be hit again or violated in any other way, it was hard not to be scared.  

She kept her eyes down and hands in place as the guard went around unlocking her chains. Only once all her limbs were unshackled did the next order come.

“Stand.” The voice was sharp, and almost like a physical blow with how it slammed into her. It offered no mercy or room for weakness, so she obeyed.

Warily, she shifted her torso, testing her muscles. She guessed that she’d been chained up for about forty-eight hours. Gingerly she moved her legs to the side of the bed and hissed at her joints cracking in protest. Pushing the rest of her body up was hard. After being horizontal for so long, the sudden shift to vertical started to make her dizzy.

“Hands on the wall,” came the next command and she grimaced.

Shuffling over as quickly as she could, and keeping her hands in view she walked over to the narrow section of wall between the bed frame and the padded wall. Pressing herself up against it, she raised her arms above her head and waited.

“Feet apart.”

She bit her lip and slowly shuffled her legs apart, fearing what was going to come next. She’d already awoken with soreness that suggested penetration while she’d been unconscious. A lone tear trickled down her face, stinging the raw flesh, and she held back a sob.

She waited for the next command to come: for her to remove her clothing or something else. She heard them shuffle closer and felt the heat and presence of their larger body behind her. She tensed her muscles and...it never came.

Instead, there was a gentle whisper in her ear: “Darcy.”

How did they know her name? She went to turn around, but she was slammed up against the wall. “Don’t react,” the guard whispered harshly in her ear before a blow was landed to the back of her head.

She collapsed to the floor in the pain. She was so confused. She had no idea what was going on. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“Good,” they growled before their voice softened against. “Now don’t move. Do you know your name?”

“Yes. I’m D-Darcy Lewis,” she wheezed, scared to say or do anything wrong.

Hands were on her body again. Tracing over her clothes, her shoulders...everywhere. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to make herself not notice. The strange questions made it hard for her to focus, though.

Hands under her armpits come and yank her back up so she’s standing again. “Who do you work for?” A shout.

She licked her lips before she murmured, “I worked for Jane Foster…”

Then a whisper again, so soft against her ear, almost like a gentle caress. “Do you know who has you?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she shook her head, her matted hair swinging and getting stuck to her face. She curled into herself and waited for another strike. She knew she wasn’t meant to move, but she couldn’t help it.

The hands came back and they were...stroking her face? “Darcy. Stop, stop, stop. I’m not going to hurt you,”

The guard, which she now figures to be a he, slowly unfurls her face from the protective cradle of limbs and made a show of patting the rest of her down. She finally got a look at his face and her knees went weak.

It was the fucking Winter Soldier. James Buchanan Barnes.

Darcy choked on her sobs. He must of been there to save her. She went to reach for him, but he slapped her hand down and glared at her. His eyes colder than a Minnesota lake in December, and she shivered and broke eye contact.

She started shaking uncontrollably again. This had to be a test or some kind of sick holographic joke. She knew that Tony Stark was working on this kind of technology and since there was no such thing as an original idea it made sense they would have something similar at their disposal.

“Listen to me, I’m undercover at the moment. I am here to rescue you, but I can’t just yet. You need to hold on. I’m gathering intel—” His mouth moves, Bucky is speaking to her, but she can’t hear the words.

Her ears are full of static. Her vision is blurry, and she started to wobble.

“I told you not to move,” he roared at her and she flinched away. Dropping to the floor this time and fully curling up into a protective ball. She started to cry again, what about, she’s not sure.  The fact that she has to wait to be freed so that they can gather information or the fact that she has been yelled at.

She hiccuped and struggled to breathe. She’d thought that Buck and her were friends.

She’d imagined that he’d come here and rescue her and then he’d be taking her right back to the Tower. She didn’t realise, but she was now rocking back and forth.

She tried to pull herself together, to force herself to stand, but Bucky had to reach down and yank her up again. In character again, he threw her back on the bed and gripped her arms above her head with his metal hand.  

He’d nearly finished restraining her, he was just locking her right hand up when he leaned down to whisper, “You’ll be out in a few days, Darce. You just need to hold on. Okay. Remember that.”

And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving her behind, where the only sound was her gut-wrenching sobs echoing off the padded-walls.

* * *

 

 

 

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/s6J6yR4)

[](https://imgur.com/5GJ4fuj%22%3E<img%20src=)


	2. Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit. Has. Hit. THE. FAN.  
> Many, many dark things in this chapter. So read the tags and be warned.  
> Otherwise, please do read on if you want your heart ripped out :)

_The message was clear:_ **_they_ ** _were_ **_Hydra_ ** _and_ **_they_ ** _would_ **_break_ ** _her and_ **_remake_ ** _her. She would be better. Forged into something stronger and more wonderous than anything they had crafted before._

_They did it differently each time. Experimenting,  improving, rebuilding, rebirthing, fixing, perfecting—_

_Pain, torture, crying, screaming, twisting, slicing, injecting, probing, removing, shaving, replacing, pain—_

_Most of the time, she couldn’t recall what they’d done. Sometimes she remembered. Sometimes she was awake while they did a procedure._

_She knew that last time she’d been in the chair. A chair of nightmares that shocked her with lightning until thunder rattled her skull and fried her brain. She’d awoken with cloudy thoughts and no memories of her life from before she was ten._

_She’d cried her heart out when she realised that. her father was gone forever. The only thing she knew about him was that he’d died. That he’d loved her, hugged her and fed her. But what he looked like, smelt like, the sound of his voice, the feel of a warm hug...it was all a blank slate._

_The day after she’d awoken to find her head feeling rather cold. Rubbing her face against a bare arm, she’d discovered her head was covered in prickly bloody patches._

_She’d screamed._

_Her hair._

_Her hair was gone._

 

 

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/Arbns4v)

 

_So it came to be that every time Darcy left her cell, she lost another piece of herself._

_Soon, Darcy stopped fighting altogether._

_Her dignity was in tatters, her pride a pile of ashes and her hope? Starting to fracture._

_To fight, meant punishment. To fight would be a waste of energy, which she had precious little of._

_Since they’d broken her jaw, they’d been getting sustenance into her via a feeding tube. Followed by a colour cocktail of drugs via an IV for dessert. She didn’t care. She couldn’t talk back, she was restrained so she couldn’t resist._

_What Hydra saw seemed to please them as they showed mercy sometimes but putting her under for most of the procedures. Sometimes they needed her awake, to measure her brain waves, her nerve reactions or to measure the decibel of her screams. She didn’t know what for only that it left her raw and more broken than the time before._

_She tried to tell them she was going to break. She begged for them to stop. She wailed until her throat bled. Nothing she did could make it stop. She’d almost headbutted the white coat who had whispered, “You must be powerless before you become powerful,” into her ear before cold fingers had strayed into areas they were not meant to be testing that day._

_Her body was not her own. She was a tool. Not a person. A thing that was subject to anything they could think of._

_Today, she was led to a table and given a numbing needle to the spine, before been told to lie down. Face first into the table,  her head hanging through a hole, and back exposed to the room. She was terrified of what was to come._

_It wasn’t long before there were a million bees buzzing beneath her skin as the lower half of her body eventually became numb. They rolled her over to her side so they could tap her knee cap. Checking for reflexes, with no reaction, they took it as the sign to begin._

_She watched as a gloved hand approached with a vial of silvery liquid. She knew the contents well by now. It would sting and then it would boil her blood. She didn’t feel the usual pinprick of the thin metal sliding into her vein, as they injected the liquid into her legs, her arms and finally her neck._

_The reaction was almost instant. Her vision went blurry, like a kaleidoscope. Millions of rotating tiles formed her world creating a spinning, dizzying view that made her stomach churn with motion sickness._

_She tried to swallow back the excess saliva, but her muscles wouldn’t work. Her tongue like jelly, her throat to sore, so she ended up drooling. Creating a mess, but they didn’t care. They didn’t care if she shat herself or if she was in a pool of her own bodily fluids at any given time, the experiment would go on. No matter what._

_Feeling so sick, and like a thousand butterflies were dancing along her skin, she almost didn’t catch what one of the assistants closest to her was saying.  “The subject is weak, sir. It is best if we cease experimentation and resume at a later date.”_

_“No, keep going,” came the order. The voice spoke without hesitation or doubt. She’d heard it before, when she’d floated in and out of consciousness, but never this clearly._

_“But, sir, she can’t take—”_

_“I don’t care. We’ve come too far now. Keep going.”_

_She wanted to cry when the next voice objected. “With all due respect, I don’t believe this to be a wise decision. If we push her too far, all of our work will be lost.” Bucky. He was there. He would make it stop. He was going to make them stop..._

_There was a heavy sigh, a slamming of something heavy and then, “she can hold on for a bit longer. Max power for the next five minutes and then you can wrap it up for today.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_No. God, no. Please, no. Bucky, please, she pleaded mentally. She screamed internally. He didn’t hear her._

_Her eyes were wide and wild, darting around in a frenzy to lock eyes with someone. She managed to make eye contact with Bucky and she was met with nothing but ice. She blinked rapidly, trying to send him a code, she was ready for him to jump in._

_He remained still until he moved out of sight. Leaving her alone, heartbeat pounding in her ears, sweat dripping off her face. Bucky, why? Tears leaked down her face, she tried to move, but her limbs were lead and…Bucky wasn’t helping._

_“Machine is ready, and at full capacity. Administering full dosage at max power.”_

_What did they mean max power? Why wasn’t he stopping them?_

_She heard the ever-increasing hum of electricity, a flash of blue and–_


	3. Holding

Darcy didn’t realise she was in a different cell when she stirred.

It was bright and she needed the light to go away. Blearily, she cracked open her and glowered at the source of light: a window.

She bolted upright, realising two things at once as she did. One: she wasn’t restrained. No cuffs, no chains, no tubes protruding from her body. Two: A window meant a chance to escape.

Darcy didn’t even hesitate to get up. She couldn’t miss this chance.  

She didn’t make it further than a few steps from the bed before her knees buckled, sending her crashing to the floor.

She didn‘t bother getting up or crawling back over to the bed. She didn’t have the energy.

She wished she could get up and walk over to the window, just to breathe in the fresh air. To pound out her heartache and pain against the padded wall. To scream down the door.

God, she needed the promised rescue to come already. She couldn’t keep going like this. She imagined that things were only going to become worse, if that was possible. More invasive, taking more things away... She choked back a sob at the prospect.

She’d waited for Bucky to step in, to intervene and rescue her. He had done nothing. The sob slipped past her trembling lips and the sound she made hurt her own ears. It was raw, ugly and full of tears.

Something was different from the usual procedures. She could tell that much. She couldn't identify what they’d done, but it wasn‘t good. She didn’t have time to test her limbs or investigate anything else before she passed out, drifting into dreams of home.

When she woke up again, she thought she was still dreaming. She’d sat up and gone to rub her eyes when she’d noticed something different about her hand; it was glowing. Literally fucking glowing. Translucent and shimmery like moonlight.

She blinked a few times, trying to clear her hazy vision and went to try to rub them again. Except, she couldn't touch her face.

She rubbed her eyes, but the illuminated skin was still there. Upon closer inspection, it was more like the light was passing through her. Her skin so pale, she could see through it…

She hyperventilated. Panic setting in, as she jumped up and paced around her cell, trying to figure out what the fuck had been done to her. She didn’t have a bazillion science degrees or any experience with this shit to know what is going on or why she is glowing like Casper the fucking ghost.

For the first time in a while, she got angry, which she quickly regretted.

Flames ran up her arm, down her hands and her fingers faded away completely. Next, her toes and her feet started to burn and before her eyes, they faded into nothingness as well. 

She cried out in horror. They’d erased her.

Eventually, she calmed herself down, but it was a struggle to keep a grip on her emotions. No matter what she did, she couldn't make the faded parts come back. There was something in the cell, she figured out, that means she couldn't pass through it. She experimented with trying to get her hand through the door, but it didn’t make it any further than the part of her hand that remained.

She tried her best to keep herself together. To not fall apart, figuratively and literally. But she failed. She didn’t want to hold on anymore. She sat in the bed's corner, looking out the window for a sign. For a quinjet or the sound of a chopper, something, anything, to keep her going.

She heard the door open, but she didn’t bother to look over. It was the first time it’d opened since she’d woken up. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, bracing herself for someone to pull her from the bed like a rag doll and down the cold concrete hallway and into the tiled room of pain.

Except no guard stormed over or made a grab for her. Instead, a familiar voice greeted her. “Darce, you’re still here, thank God.”

Him.

 _Bucky_.

**Traitor.**

He was sidetracked by knocking out the camera in the upper corner of the ceiling. She tilted her head and studied him for a moment. He was decked out in a Hydra guard uniform that was overlapped with the usual Avengers tactical gear. She went back to looking at the window. The rescue was here but the sight of him...it made her sick.

Apparently satisfied with the camera, Bucky rushed over to her. “Hold on, Darce, I’ll get you.” From his arms and posture, she knew that he would try to scoop her up. Except she knew it wouldn’t work. But he moved too fast, and before she could object, he had bent over, hand extended and it passed right through her.

“What the fuck?”

He looked up at her confusion. She kept her eyes down. Growling, he tried and failed again. “The hell?”

Steve busted into the room, apparently hearing Bucky shout. “What’s going on? We’ve only got two minutes left on the signal jam.”

Bucky gestured helplessly at Darcy. “I can’t touch her.”

Steve’s brows shot up at first, shock at the sight of her, she guessed. Her hair was gone, and she probably looked worse than death. His brows then furrowed as he processed what Bucky had said. “What do you mean you can’t touch her? Buck, I don’t think she really cares right now about getting consent to carry her. Look, here, let me—” Just like Bucky’s hand, Steve’s hand passed straight through her.

Steve’s jaw went slack and his eyes bugged out. She could see the ‘What the fuck’ question sitting on the tip of his tongue. She wished she could explain, to tell them what’s been done to her, but even she didn’t even know. “Darce…”

Tears pricked at the corner of her eye. Her feet were gone, they are transparent, she’s been floating for however long she’s been in the cell. Steve followed her gaze and snapped his jaw shut, the click audible.

“Shit, what did they do to her, Buck?” Steve whispered, revulsion clear in his tone. She curled into herself a little more and flinched at the sting of her arm. That would be another little piece fading out.

“I don’t know, Steve. Shit, I didn’t think they would fuck it up. Whatever it is, it’ll be in the files. Don’t look at me like that, Punk. I was too busy stealing them to stop and have a read.” Bucky was gesturing wildly and his voice...god the shouting...she started to shake.

“Hold on for a goddamned second and let me think. We can’t carry her, so we need another way to get her out of here.”

While Steve was pacing, brainstorming, Bucky knelt before her and placed his arms out on either side, bracketing her in. “Darcy. Can you hear me? You listening?”

She made herself nod.

“All right, doll. Can you hold my hand?”

Her lip trembled as she shook her head. She couldn’t touch him even if she wanted too. “Why not?”

She met his eye and tears leak out, but as much conviction as she could muster, she uttered, “I can’t.”

Looking taken aback, Bucky rocked back onto his heels, still crouched down, but pulled his arms back, giving her some room. “Why not?” he asked again.

She curled her upper lip. “Why don’t you ask them?” The venom was palpable, far more tangible than anything else about her right then.

Bucky blinked. “Darce…” he started, but Steve cut him off before he could finish.

“Buck! We need to go now.” He glanced down at Darcy, his blue eyes alert and looking over her. “Can you fix yourself for a bit, Darcy?”

She bit her lip and whispered out a hollow, “No.” She'd tried, so hard. Willing and wishing with all her might that her hands would come back, that her feet would as well, but they remained faded out. 

Steve hung his head. “How the hell do we get her out of here?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky muttered, as he peered around the room, determined to locate something. His gaze landed on the blanket, and his eyes darted up to Darcy. “Can you touch this?” He held up the ratty blanket, that was crusty with her tears and snot.

She nodded slowly, not sure where he was going with the blanket, but Steve seemed to be on the same wavelength, as he ripped the blanket off the bed and out of Bucky’s hand and threw it over her.

She flinched, at first, having something touching her and covering her bare head. What came next scared her even more: Human contact.

Steve’s arms came down and engulfed her in the blanket, making her a makeshift taco. Happy with his swaddling, Steve reached around Darcy and held his breath as he gripped her. He exhaled loudly through his teeth when his hands gripped her and they didn’t pass through.

She hiccuped a whimper. Steve glanced down at her with tenderness and a soft smile. “Hold on, Darcy. Okay, we’re leaving now. We’re going.”

She held on for dear life.

 

 

 


	4. On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a dark day today for me, so despite it been a shit mental health, and my old pals anxiety and depression saying this is shite, please enjoy this chapter. Not beta'd.

* * *

Darcy only began to stir as the roar of the Quinjets engines became a gentle purr, a soft thud soon followed along with a lot of clanking and whirring. Someone was also shouting, but she couldn’t make out the muffled words.

She tried to roll over and open her eyes, to see where she was, but her eyelids were so heavy. She also found something restricted her movement, but not by chains or straps. By the feel of the fabric brushing against her hand she recognised it was the blanket from her cell, the one that was holding her together. 

She felt a knot rise in her throat at the thought and she grabbed onto the blanket a little tighter, not wanting to fall out, to come undone, she also realised that she wasn’t shivering. Her fingertips weren’t numb, she could feel her toes and her arms weren’t prickling…

It took a bit but she finally realised what was happening. After weeks of cold floors and walls, she was warm. Heat surrounded her; it penetrated her frozen skin and curbed the chilly ache in her bones. Making her feel slightly human for the first time in so long. 

She continued to bask in the amazing warmth that was radiating from somewhere, until the stench of copper and salt hit her nose. 

**Blood** .

She smelt blood. Her breath hitched, and she retched as she continued to breathe it in. She tried to angle her head into the blanket to cover up her nose, but her body wasn’t working. She coughed as she tasted the blood in the back of her throat. The coughing rattled her fragile body and made her quake. 

Panic truly set in when she heard, “You got a good grip on her? Don’t want her getting loose,” been whispered above her. 

She knew that voice; it belonged to the man who’d tortured her and left her to rot. God, it’d been a dream, the rescue, being carried out, Steve being there... She’d been hallucinating , she was still in the cell.  Instantly, Darcy began to thrash around, trying to escape, to force her eyes open so she could see where she was. 

But her eyes were so heavy, and her arms were equally heavy. It felt like someone had attached cinder blocks to her limbs, weighing her down, making her so sleepy. So hard to stay awake and to keep fighting. 

...But she couldn’t stop, not now. If there was the slightest chance it wasn’t real, then she would not waste the chance to escape. Because she couldn’t take anymore. If they jabbed another needle into her skin, or another tube shoved down her throat she was afraid that she would break. Her tenuous grip on herself would fracture and she would dissolve and truly fade away, just to be free of the pain. 

She must’ve been whimpering and keening in pain as cold fingers brushed against her cheek. “ Shh , Darcy,  s’all right, Darcy.” The voice made her pause briefly. “We’re back home, you’re safe now.”

_ Steve _ , she half recognised, but her mind was wrapped in cotton and at the bottom of a pool, and was much as she tried to fight it, she could not help but drift off again into the dark. She just hoped when she woke up next that it really wouldn’t turn out to be a dream. 

* * *

Constant little bips and beeps roused her the next time. With great effort, she forced opened her eyes, she realised why there was so much noise; medical machines surrounded her. Glowing little lights and numbers swirled around her, humming as they measured her vitals.

Taking in the rest of the room, she flinched as she saw the colour: solid white, but not the kind from her cell. This room seemed to glow from within, each of the surfaces refracting light. Her gaze then fell upon the tubes, filled with liquids and goops that all ran down, down, down...they were in her.

She let out a whimper and felt wet on her face. Tears. She knew that much. More cries rose from her throat as she became more aware and felt the tubes and where they went into her. One in her hand, another up her nose, one in her chest, another in her side…

Darcy screamed. No more. No more experiments. She tried to move but again found herself constricted by the same blanket from the cell. Swaddled like a baby, her limbs were not going anywhere. They trapped her. 

The noise she made soon brought people in white coats rushing in. They tried to tell her it would be all right, but their uniforms and clothes were a lie, a contradiction to everything that was said. 

One of them tried to approach her with a needle, and the machines joined her in screeching. 

Another person, a man she assumed from the fuzzy outline, that was decked out fully in blue strode into the room. “What the hell is going on?” 

Steve. It was, Steve. It wasn’t a dream. She was actually at home. 

She must've called out his name, as he turned to her, and his face finally came into focus. The soft blue eyes full of concern, but his usual smile was gone, in its place a stern scowl. He whipped back around to face the other white coats and began to bark at them. 

They threw hand gestures around, hands were on hips and arms were waving wildly in the air. All Darcy knew is that was Steve was here to fight for her, she knew it from the pits of her stomach. 

She heard the swishing of the glass door opening once more and she rolled her eyes up to get a look at whose else had just entered the room. Starting from the bottom she worked her way up from brown to black and silver arm–

“Get out,” she hissed, although the words were barely audible, it gave everyone pause. 

The attention of the room was her, but her gaze was on Bucky, who’d just walked in and was now frozen under her gaze. 

While she was distracted and in the stare down with the traitor, one of the white coats started to fiddle with one of her tubes. Catching the movement in the corner of her eye, Darcy darted her gaze over to the white coat, now fiddling with a cap, and in their other hand was a needle

“What are you doing?” Darcy tried to shout, it came out more like a feeble crock. 

No response came, instead liquid ran down the line, heading for her veins. She began to hyperventilate as she watched the new liquid getting closer. She glanced from it to Steve. 

“What are they putting in me?”

Understanding the worry on her face or maybe what she was saying, Steve threw a questioning look at the white coat and they gestured down at Darcy. “Sedative, she needs it to rest and recover.”

Steve nodded and came to kneel next to Darcy, a watery fake smile spread across his lips. Darcy held his gaze and closed her eyes as she felt his hand over his hand over her bare head. She felt him recoil for a second. Her eyes fluttered back open, and she saw the sadness. 

She went to say that it was all right, but the drugs of whatever they’d given her were finally kicking in and she lost the word on the tip of her tongue, and fell against down into the black, with hope this time. She was safe, finally home, and they would fix her. 

 

* * *

Steve took a step back from the bed and let the Doctors get to it, taking the chance to analyze, test and extract samples while Darcy was solidly under.  

He scrubbed a hand through his hair as he watched them delicately work around the blanket, the only thing that was keeping her anchored and stopped her phasing out. 

He more so sensed Bucky approaching him, rather than heard. His friend’s footfalls silent on the linoleum floor, and his silver arm coming up to grip his shoulder in a show of support. 

Steve glanced to his side to meet his friend’s solemn gaze. “Christ, Buck, what did they do to her?” 

Bucky squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “I don’t know Steve, but we’re gonna find out.” He dropped his hand from Steve’s shoulder, to slide into his pocket and draw out an USB stick. 

The bit of black against the silver of Bucky’s hand drew in Steve’s gaze. “Buck…” Steve’s blue eyes went wide and then narrowed. “What is that?” He  pointed to the thing in Bucky’s hand.

Bucky flipped the stick around in his fingertips. “Hydra’s data on Darcy.”

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed, spinning, so he was fully facing Bucky. “Where did you pull that from? When did you-” Steve shook his head and rubbed a hand over his jaw, pinning Bucky with the standard ‘Disappointed in you’ look. “Was this why you were unresponsive? You  could of-”

“Jeopardised the mission, I know,” Bucky cut in, he gripped the USB in hand and looked to his feet.  “Save the speech, Steve. It has Darcy’s file and all her data on it. After that last experiment…” Bucky shook his head and shot a look up at Steve. “I needed to find out what I could. So when we brought her home we had a chance of undoing whatever they did to her.” 

“Buck…” Steve took a step closer to his friend. “What did they do?”

Bucky hung his head, unable to look across the room at the fragile, faded figure. “Worse than what they ever did to me.”


End file.
